


The Last Queen

by Gilded_Tweezers



Series: Elvish Erotica [1]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Adultery, And Fíriel turns the tables, Arnor, Cunnilingus, Elladan makes demands, Explicit mentions of M/M, F/M, Fall of Arnor, Impregnation, Laws and Customs Among the Eldar, M/M, Mentions of Pregnancy, Mildly Dubious Consent, Morally Ambiguous Character, Oaths & Vows, On BOTH SIDES, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Vaginal Sex, bedroom politics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 18:18:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17411846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gilded_Tweezers/pseuds/Gilded_Tweezers
Summary: Elrond single-handedly saved the Dúnedain of the North from extinction after the Fall of Arnor. What drove the Lord of Rivendell to this remarkable act of charity? Was it truly because their Chieftains were Elros’ great great great - insert another 30 greats - grandsons?Fíriel, the last Queen of Arnor, wasn't willing to take any chances.The tale of how an unexpected, but not unwelcome visitor presented Fíriel with one sinful opportunity to get away with the inconceivable...





	The Last Queen

**Author's Note:**

> "It was in the reign of Araphant in the North and of Ondoher son of Calimehtar in the South that the two kingdoms again took counsel together after long silence and estrangement. For at last they perceived that some single power and will was directing the assault from many quarters upon the survivors of Númenor. It was at that time that Arvedui heir of Araphant wedded Fíriel daughter of Ondoher (1940)."

Elladan was nothing if not circumspect.

One had to be as a son of Elrond, born and raised in the public eye. He could not have approached Fíriel before her wedding night. Arvedui might think too highly of the Elves to believe them capable of this very act, but he would know the difference between a nervous virgin and a woman who nervously pretends to be one.

Fíriel had passed that particular test, and Elladan endeavored to celebrate her achievement with her. They had walked in the lush gardens surrounding the great Keep of Fornost amidst hybrid roses and elegantly sculpted topiary, the scent of lavender heavy in the still summer air buzzing with bees - the newly crowned Queen of Arnor conversing about astronomy and the lore of Númenor with the son of Elrond who had just blessed her union in his father’s name.

But the chaperoning ladies in waiting, little moving pillars of subservient piety in their high-collared pastel dresses, had kept too polite a distance. Elladan knew that he was fair to the eyes both kindreds, and Queen Fíriel was eager enough once she understood that Elladan’s interest in her was far more carnal in nature than an Elvish wedding guest’s should.  
When the day’s white hot glow finally sank into soft, sea-blue dusk Elladan, comfortably certain of his welcome in her bedchamber, quietly slipped past Fíriel’s personal guard. Both the trespass and weaving a night's spell of warding had been almost improbably easy for one who learned the skill of Song from Galadriel.

Fíriel had blushed, when he entered the lavish inner sanctum of her bedroom, and offered him iced wine before finding the courage to look him in the eye. Elladan liked what he saw there. The Daughter of Gondor had brought a rebellious streak when she married into the North.

Elladan now lay sprawled on a wide bed amidst feather pillows and sheets of silk, and watched the rose-petal lips of the new Queen of Arnor leave a wet glisten on the skin of his painfully stiff cock. Fíriel softly hummed around her mouthful, her hands stroking his sensitive sack in a mesmerizing rhythm, and he knew well enough what she wanted. He had given her the considerable pleasure his own mouth could provide several times over, pushing aside the question how much of Arvedui’s royal seed might linger from yesterday’s wedding night despite her bath. Despite her insistence Elladan had no desire to accept that same service from her.

It had been far too long since he had allowed himself the pleasure of a full joining, and this opportunity was a rare one. Elladan had no wish to marry any of the few unwed Elf-women lingering east of the Sea. He had never dared to lay with one: Elrond’s heir might make a far better match in Valinor. Mortals did not present the same risk of creating unwanted and irreversible bonds, but the begetting of children was out of their conscious control. Fíriel knew this well enough, from her clever attempts to divert her Peredhel lover’s seed to innocuous places. Elladan would not be swayed so easily.

He turned her onto her back and she went willingly, even spread her legs. He deeply inhaled the sweet, musky scent of her arousal, then gently stroked her sex. Beneath the dark curls it was fire-hot and wet, so swollen the pink petals bloomed open to show the dark opening between and her straining little pearl. He lent down to press his lips to it once more and she groaned.

“Let me in. Please, Fíriel.” His voice was rough as he pleaded.

“Your seed might overcome Arvedui’s. I will be with child, and not his!” came her hoarse, whispered reply.

The very idea shot a bolt of heat to Elladan’s underbelly. His seed might take in her, but unlike in lesser women it would not stand out.

“Arvedui will never know. He is my kinsman. Even if your child proves my very image, leaf-shaped ears and all, he will jubilate about the purity of Elros’ blood rekindled in the mingling of Arnor and Gondor’s lines. It will bring you nothing but honor.”

Another soft lick across the center of her pleasure with his tongue, two fingers gently teasing that delightful place his cock was straining for.

“Please, Fíriel.”

She pushed him away, ungently, but it was anger born of frustrated desire, not resentment.

“Oh, you fiend!”

Elladan would not be dissuaded so easily, and moved his mouth to her breasts. Fíriel’s dainty pink nipples had borne no trace from Arvedui’s earlier attentions when Elladan first lifted her diaphanous silk nightgown. He had proceeded to suck and tease them to a beautiful deep red he hoped would recede before her lady’s maid came to dress her in the morning. He took the left one in his mouth once more now, playing with tongue and teeth until it grew hard and sweet like a cherry in his mouth. Elladan liked to receive this particular rough caress himself, from the Elf-men he took to his bed at times, and he could almost feel the pulse of heat that shot from Fíriel’s chest to her underbelly.

The pleasure made her reflexively spread her legs once more, and Elladan firmly settled his hips between them. His cock rubbed her wet, swollen sex. Gently, endlessly careful he kept stroking her, even though the wet friction was pure torture.

When Elladan’s cock briefly caught on the edge of her opening he froze, instantly sobered. The very idea of forcing a lover was nauseating to one raised among Elves. His voice was soft and sweet as honey, and she shivered when his breath hit her delicately rounded ear. A night breeze briefly cooled them both when it blew in from the open casements overlooking her private garden bearing the scent of Gondor: jasmine and orange blossom.

“Ask me, Fíriel. Ask for what you want.”

Whether she had accepted his earlier argumentation on a rational level, or the promise of pleasure was simply too great Elladan never knew.

“Please, Elladan. Inside.”

The heat of her was glorious. So wet, soft and eager for him, like no man could ever be. Fíriel keened, muffled into the side of her balled fist, and spread even wider as Elladan briefly lost all reservations and allowed his hips to thrust as hard as they desperately needed to. Oh… it had been so long, and this was so incomparably good! He should not, could not even groan as the storm washed over him, lest a male voice be heard in the queen’s bedchamber, and the forced silence was a delicious agony.

Fíriel’s eyes were tightly shut, her face frozen in a grimace and for an instant Elladan drew back, worried she was too sore from her wedding night to enjoy this act, but in the next instant her hands came gripped his buttocks and she pulled him into her. He went gladly, his finger gently circling her pearl once more so he could feel her inner muscles contract around him with every pass.

It was not every woman who could come just from laying beneath a man, especially not after the attentions she already received, but Fíriel managed it superbly. Elladan forcibly kept his eyes open so he might commit the whole experience to Elvish memory for lonely nights to come. He felt her flutter around him and muffled her careless moan with his own mouth.  
He had already begun the motion of withdrawing, to spend himself over her smooth, white belly for safety’s sake when her hands clutched his hips in an iron grip.

“Inside me.”

Suddenly Fíriel’s tone was that of the Queen of the Reunited Kingdom to one of her courtiers.

“There is no need, this was good for me.”

Eyes of the very same sea-grey as his own met Elladan’s. Behind them shone a will of adamant, and an unexpected touch of foresight.

“Elros’ blood will be fresh in my son, and through that his line will endure. In me, Elladan!”

Elladan could not refuse. She made it so good, her hands suddenly caressing everywhere - his nipples, his balls, the cleft of his arse - her tongue stroking inside his mouth as if she wished to be in him as he was in her. A white hot bloom of pleasure cracked his entire body wide open as he spent his seed inside Fíriel in a shuddering, silent climax.

The silver filigree lanterns lighting the queen’s chamber sputtered out one by one.

Neither Elladan not Fíriel had eyes for the falling darkness. Now that she had chosen to risk the full act of love Fíriel insisted he have her on all fours, her animalistic groans buried in feather pillows as Elladan knelt behind her to thrust into bliss. He knew from experience with many men, Elvish and Mortal, that he was far from small but she demanded him deep and hard as if she had not lost her maidenhead only the night before. Maybe she truly hadn’t, and was a better actress than Arvedui gave her credit for. Gondor in the summer heat could be a warm and lustful place.

Elladan allowed himself to fall over the edge the instant her inner walls fluttered around him, biting down on his own wrist to keep from groaning his delight in the tight, slick warmth of her, and felt his own hot fluid flow back against him inside.

Elladan slept for a short while after, wholly spent and sated. Fíriel did not, likely for fear of oversleeping and being found out. He woke close to dawn, to a dream of delight that proved to be her warm mouth suckling him back to hardness, her tongue gently circling his crown. He was instantly stiff enough for her to mount.

“Once more for good luck, son of Elrond.”

“Ah, Fíriel… ”

The sight of her small, pert breasts moving as she rode him was nearly enough to undo Elladan despite this being the third time. A woman was so soft, and round and tenderly beautiful. Elladan took hold of his anger at the laws that denied him this pleasure to shove it away for later, and instead gently rolled her nipples between his fingers to feel every little twitch making her even tighter for him.

“So beautiful, so good for me.”

Fíriel groaned softly, and Elladan could feel her frustration, grappling for what remained just out of reach. Apparently she felt she needed his permission.

“Touch yourself.”

Blood shot to her face in genuine embarrassment. Elladan was bemused. Had this been one of his own warriors riding him that same invitation would see him flecked with seed up to his chest in short order. He had seen, touched and tasted Fíriel’s most intimate places from every possible angle, but by some arcane logic only mortals could grasp she felt shame at letting him watch her take her pleasure. He took Fíriel’s hand and put it to her sex, vaguely amused by the thought that Arvedui would never know who to thank for the ravishing sight of his wife’s face as she brought herself to the peak.

Fíriel bloomed into orgasm, and at the sight Elladan emptied himself inside her, shuddering and biting the side of his fist until it seemed she had pulled his very soul out through his cock. Fíriel’s face bore a curious expression. She sat still atop him for a moment to touch the place where Elladan’s still twitching member disappeared inside her with awe.

“This is the last time.”

Elladan nodded. “Morning is nearly upon us, and we cannot ever do this again.”

She took his hand, in turn, to lay the palm flat against her soft underbelly just above the dark curls.

“Tonight’s seed will take. A son.” She declared with complete certainty. “Promise me you will take care of him.”

The enormity of what they just did fully struck Elladan, and he looked her straight in the eyes, searching.

“If I claim him as mine Arvedui’s wrath will be terrible. Do you truly wish me to?”

She shook her head, her smaller hand still holding his to her belly as she tightened around his softening cock.

“No. It would unleash civil war in Arnor and Gondor both, with the Witch-king the only winner. No Man must ever know.”

Fíriel had a sharp mind, to formulate her words so exactly while still holding a man inside her in the aftermath of a shattering climax.

“You wish me to tell my father.”

She shot him a knowing look.

“Would Lord Elrond of all people not know it regardless?”

Elladan nodded. Elrond would recognize the child’s fëa the instant he laid his hands on Fíriel’s swollen belly, and for the heir to Arnor no other healer would do.

“Will he betray us?”

“My father is kind, kind as summer. He loves me beyond all my faults, and he will love this child the same.”

Fíriel’s whole posture slackened with relief, but in her eyes shone a fire that reminded Elladan of Galadriel.

“Swear it now, inside me and your hand on my belly!”

No man with a heart could refuse such a plea, and Elladan liked to think he still had one. All the world seemed frozen to stillness to listen, the summer breeze and the cicadas outside giving way to a deep and solemn silence.

“Fíriel, I swear that your son will be a son of Imladris even as he inherits the crown of Arnor.”

She bent over to drink the last few syllables from his lips in a sweet kiss. Her voice carried a chilling foresight when she spoke next.

“I thank you, son of Elrond. This night and this oath will carry both our lines through an age of darkness.”

 

_After the Witch-king's victory, the Sack of Fornost and the death of Arvedui, the last King of Arnor, his son Aranarth came at last through many dangers to Elrond’s house - a ragged, destitute refugee. Henceforth the young Chieftains of the Dúnedain would be fostered, and the aged ones cared for in the Last Homely House. What else could the Lord of Rivendell have done, for his own grandson?_

**Author's Note:**

> Your feedback and kudos make me a very happy author!!


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